


Blindfold

by bigstupidjellyfish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Depression, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstupidjellyfish/pseuds/bigstupidjellyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Un-betaed, un-everythinged.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Blindfold

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, un-everythinged.

A large purple foot was tapping on the technically-clean floor.

The owner of that foot, unnamed Decepticon, got called on this by another unnamed Decepticon about fifteen minutes ago.

"Oi, bad boy, could ya stop with the tapping? It's annoying," He said.

"What are you gonna do, fight me if I don't? I could tap it 'til the rest of my life," the other 'con answered and laughed at his own joke. No one supported him.

Chromedome sat next to him, barely bothered by the noise or the banter, flexing his fingers. Doctors of the reliqishment clinic always made their kind of patients wait, running errands, attending people in more immediate - more real - need. In case somebody would change their mind and go away.

Patience was killing him. He wasn't going to go away. He knew he was a fader. He knew his servos and joints should rust, valuable circuitry and semi-conductors and his state-of-art needles re-used for the war, for something that would combine into someone not _him_. It's just his spark, his stupidly hard to kill knock-off of a spark refused to even flicker.

Chromedome's fingertips burned. He knew a lot about people dying. Lived through it, ironically. Easiest way to die was to crush the sparkcase. The spark usually exploded if it was done in an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Chromedome knew a share of Autobots - heroes, really - who used that explosion to damage the enemy forces. Knew them postmortemly, of course. Reliquishment clinics on Cybertron now offered the same - cracking the case in vacuum and letting the spark suffocate. Painless. The mnemosurgeon knew about that, too.

On the contradictory, the worst death was... Chromedome sighed. Rating deaths wasn't something normal people do, was it? He'd go with the smelting, anyway. He hadn't much work with these corpses and hurt himself more than extracted something useful from fried circuitry.

He had vivid dreams of deaths afterwards every time he performed an autopsy. Decapitation. Tearing apart. Having his body split in two. Being poisoned. Even drowned under the water where pressure just breaks your corpus. Out of them one dream stood out: the dream of him shoving his needles, one by one, inside his brain module through his visor. It was the only repeating dream of death that brought him relief upon waking up.

Having all that in mind, Chromedome could say he had options. He considered them only briefly. He was on a part of Cybertron where it was pretty hard to get caught in crosshairs of war. Leaking himself to death would be unreliable. He thought he could use the services of public health care for the last time.

Chromedome made a mental check of everything he did to prepare.

His apartment was cleaned out. All data-pads that wouldn't help identify his body were destroyed. All data-pads with sensitive information along with some scarce supplies were sent to Brainstorm who presumably would return to Cybertron someday. While cleaning his room he found some pictures of 'bots he didn't recognize. He erased them, too.

His fuel tanks were almost empty. He reminded himself again to tell the medics that his lines contain no innermost energon to save them the trouble of extracting it.

His neck started to numb. It always happened when he tried to look for something important in his databases. Chromedome sighed and hung his head, looking at his hands. Needles slid from the fingertips, their predatory shine promising pain and oblivion.  _What did he do?_

The sign above the operation room finally lit.

"Come in!" The voice behind the door called.

Four cybertronians looked at each other. Were they sure?

"I'll go first," said the one who was tapping his foot all the time. The others mumbled something about the All-Spark.

Somewhere in other room Chromedome heard a scream.


End file.
